Practical Magic: Livin' La Vida Loca


By Onix

I think that first Tuesday when instead of grabbing some breakfast, my books and heading to bio-chem I put on a pair of sweats and hopped in my car without thinking, I should have known something was wrong. But instead I just drove happily to the gym that Steve's directions lead me to without a second thought.

It was in one of those weird sections of town that just had to be a gay neighborhood. Which made me really pause. I didn't want to be at a gay gym! But then I saw Steve looking out of one of the big picture windows with that big smile and I went right In on autopilot.

Steve gave me a big handshake and we went right to working out which was kind of weird. As we went from machine to machine I just kind of opened up to him. I'm not usually one of those people who talk about his personal life and problems but Steve's smile was just so reassuring that I just felt I should. I told him all about Amanda and my cheating on her, about my parents and the trust fund about Med school and how I was only in it for the salary and how I couldn't give a fuck about the people or healing others. He didn't even seem angry or disgusted the way most people usually do when I tell them the truth, he just gave me that disapproving amused frown.

We were half way through our work out when some huge steroid beast in Lycra and sweat asked if he could work in with us on one of the machines. Steve noticed me roll my eyes and pulled me aside so we could evaluate the guy from a comfortable distance. He asked me why that guy irritated me so much. I laughed and told him how much I love talking to big muscle bound fags.

He looked confusion.

I told him to look at the guy. In the first place, I said, he barely even looks like a human being. I mean he looked like muscle and nothing else just one huge Muscle Mountain stuffed into fucking spandex. And all that spandex meant all the stupid fag wants is for some dude to fill those over grown glutes with dick. I laughed. Steve didn't. It was the one time he gave me a dark look, but then he shook it off and smiled again.

I quickly explained to him that he didn't seem that way. I told him his body was that perfect balance of muscle. He was big but not huge. The more I tried to back peddle the more he seemed amused. He told me to forget about it so I did.

For some reason I couldn't seem to concentrate on anything but the next time I got to work out with Steve. My whole life seemed to suddenly revolve around the next time I was going to get to lift with him. I mean I would sit at my desk, and try to finish my anatomy homework but all I could think of was Steve looming over me counting reps as I pushed the bar up. But I didn't do that many bench presses did I? Of course not...Steve and I rarely worked out chest. He knew I didn't want to get to be big. Just tone. But we work out three hours each day don't we and that would mean we'd have to do more then just...Ugh every time I would think too much about my workouts I'd get a splitting headache. So I would just drop it and imagine Steve again behind me steadying my arms during my fly curls, his heavy chest pressed against my back. The tips of his nipples digging into my back flesh as I felt his massive pecs expand with every breath he too...I felt myself growing hard at just the thought of it.

What the fuck was wrong with?

I wasn't a fag.

I had never even thought of a guys chest...but Steve's bodybuilder physique seemed to have some kind of supernatural power over me. It was so fucking weird. I had tried to stop meeting with him but I just couldn't bring myself to skip one appointment with him. I wanted to just give the whole fucking thing up. I couldn't remember how I got myself into it in the first place. But every time I tried I'd always just end up sitting in my beamer in the parking lot of the gym trying desperately not to go in. I just couldn't help myself. I would try and turn the key and all I could think of was Steve's look of disappoint at my giving up. ME! HA! Me who had never cared about anybody. Suddenly I didn't want this muscle headed Personal trainer thinking I was a quitter? What the fuck? But I'd always shuffle in and find Steve looking up from a machine with a wide grin of approval that made my heart soar like some retarded school kid who suddenly started coloring in the lines. We had been working out together for about three weeks when he suggested that I looked a little sickly. I told him I felt fine. But his disapproving stare told me that I was wrong. Maybe I did look a little peeked? But I'm a med student if there was anything wrong I'd be aware. I brushed it off and he seemed to be a little irritated by my reticence to agree with him.

The next day he mentioned it again and this time I just instinctively agreed. I don't know why it was just knee jerk. I didn't quite see the point I arguing anymore. Strange.

After our workout which seemed to me to only last about an hour but actually took like 3...where the fuck dos the time go when we're together, he took me into the back locker rooms and handed me some supplements to take until I felt better. I looked in the box and saw a handful of syringes vials and pills. I ask him what the fuck were these? He explained that these were going to make me stop being sick. He said he didn't want his little buddy getting sick. I told him that as a Med Student I knew that nobody needed this much shit to feel better unless they were a cancer survivor. I laughed. He didn't. His dark brown eyes bore into me with such irritation and disappointment that I wanted to cry. I was so upset that Steve was mad at me that I quickly agreed to start taking them right there. He smiled that sunshine smile at me and everything was better.

He explained that I should inject myself with the Vials in my Ass and take the pills about 8 times a day. I started to protest but he said he'd show me first, so I didn't make any mistakes. I was still going to argue but he lightly touched the band of my Grey sweats and my body went into autopilot. I stood motionless breathing heavily and roughly with stunned anticipation as he pulled my jogging pants to my knees. He smiled gently and turned me around. I was stock still as a statue. He slowly grazed he fingers against the waistband of my boxer's and I let out a little gasp of girlish delighted fright as he sunk them also down to my knees. I was completely exposed before this mammoth gorilla of masculinity with my bare pal ass and cock on display in the empty lockeroom. He florescent lights of the room made me feel like I was in an operating room or something. I held my breath in drastic anticipation and then I was rewarded with the most erotic feeling of my life when I felt his big callused man hand brush against the soft skin of my 23 year old ass. He held one cheek in his huge paw and I almost quivered into jelly at the touch. I was so wrapped up in the warmth of that one massive hand on my butt cheek that I didn't even feel the needle sink into my flesh.

He wiped the needle and smiled at me. Told me I was a good boy and that I should never forget my medicine. Wow it was so weird this guy talked to me like I was a fucking idiot child but I let him. I was actually glad when he patted me on the head for being a good boy. I was glad to be his good boy. What the fucking was happening to me?

He gave me that parental smile and told me to clean myself up and get back to work. He left and I watched as his huge glutes bounded back and forth down the hall. His ass lurching up and down powerfully under his gym shorts as he walked away with the confidant bodybuilder Gate.

I looked down at my exposed crotch and noticed what he was talking about. Sometimes during the injection I must have cum all over myself. My cock was dripping with cum. It ran down my leg like a runny faucet and I felt my cheeks blush with embarrassment. Oh god how humiliating I thought. And again I almost wanted to cry. Holy shit that was like twice in one god damn day. I never fucking cry! I felt like a god damn high-strung woman! I wanted to get mad and hit something for behaving this way but instead I quickly pulled up my sweats with shame and frustration, almost holding the tears back.

I grabbed me medicine and left the Gym. I was ashamed at my behavior that I didn't even read the medial labels on the bottles he had given me. I knew they were prescription and all my experience as a med student told me that You should never take Prescription drugs unless you know what they are and you certainly didn't fucking inject yourself with anything but that didn't seem to matter. Steve had given them to me. I trusted Steve. I wanted Steve to be proud of me. He was just trying to make me feel better. I mean I did look sick didn't I?

I took my medicine home that day and never missed an injection or a pill after that. I mean it was my medicine and all good boys take their medicine right? •

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